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Ogden, Utah
No spoken words, just a scream
Oddly fascinating. Intense. Deceptively complex.
I knew of curling but never claimed to understand it. I also knew Canadians love it so part of me somewhere thought if Canadians love it than it must be good. It's that part of me that thought it was a good idea to attend two three hour sessions. It was not easy, the curling venue was isolated from Salt Lake in Ogden, at least 45 minutes north of downtown, nestled in a small, well run venue at a relatively unassuming college. Once inside things got more interesting. Before the first session's halfway point it all made sense and was much more- much deeper of a game than a screaming guy, some sweepers and slow moving 44 pound stones would initially suggest.
Sweep! Sweep! Sweep!
Citius, Altius, Fortius indeed.
In preliminary Olympic rounds, four matches occur concurrently. When one (or even three) is at a still developing, early part of a match, another is certain to be at a pivotal point, a point where the importance of strategy over skill is learned yet again.
Light the Fire Within. The Salt Lake 2002 motto was everywhere. At every venue, on every piece of promotional material, I even helped to spell it out with blue and yellow audience cards at the Opening Ceremony. It was impossible to escape. Prior to every event SLOC played a terribly effective video, quoting Carl Jung among others, a video whose images and music haunt me still and hopefully will haunt me forever. It always felt that there was a deeper meaning behind these games, it didn't feel like a pure marketing deal like Atlanta- somehow it felt real, genuine, right.
As part of this larger experience, SLOC initiated a Cultural Olympiad, worthy distractions from all the snow and ice. Its star attraction (for me at least) was the comprehensive Dale Chihuly exhibit in the Salt Lake Art Center. I have felt an unnatural connection to Chihuly since 1995 when, as I'm consistently quick to point out, he spoke at my (graduate school) graduation. The image of a disheveled, rambling genius wearing an eye patch talking about an installation in Venice under a warm, Brooklyn sun is not something I have been quick to forget. I have followed his work since then making several local pilgrimages and seriously planned on seeing his now legendary temporary installation in Jerusalem in October 2000 before things got out of hand there. When I found out that he was exhibiting work in Salt Lake I felt somehow it managed to fill that loss, it was a worthy, less dangerous substitute to all the real danger the Tower of David held.
As this slideshow represents a moment in time that is now lost to memory, there are glimpses and images that are hard to forget and others that are less memorable but that contributed to the experience, from the weird barbeque sandwiches and blue powerade to the park and ride lots and the surprisingly friendly crowds. Here are a few somewhat random pictures of some of these scenes lost in time, as the end of this slideshow is now only a page away.
